Free Not For Glory by Joel Rosenberg Page A
Authors: Joel Rosenberg
than to let it show. "I don't mind dealing with established criminals—the richer, the more powerful, the better. They have an address. So, say he's made himself too valuable to some underworld bigshot. If you give me enough support, I can probably get him out of that kind of situation, but what do we do then?"
"Can you?" Rivka Effron raised an eyebrow. "I don't trust this uncle of yours, and I'm not about to risk a team of expensively trained and highly valuable young soldiers on getting him out of whatever mess he's in. You can have a half dozen semi-retired veterans. Or retired ones, if you want They'll be going in as career noncoms accompanying a negotiating team. I don't want a bunch of eighteen-year-old elite strikers trying to play clerk. Nobody's going to believe that."
It made sense. Most of what the old woman decides makes sense. "As long as I get my pick—"
"Volunteers, only."
I repressed a smile. The old woman is devious, wise, and subtle, but she doesn't understand quite everything. "And when I get him out?"
" If you get him out." Rivka Effron looked me in the eye. "How can you be sure you'll even find him?"
"Not a problem," Zev put in. "Assuming he wants to be found." He looked over at me. "What say we just make our presence known to every criminal type we can, and see what happens?"
I nodded. "Trick is to make sure we stay alive while we're bumping around, but it should work. He'll be findable." She was underestimating my uncle. As long as we kept it straightforward, we'd find him. "But when we do find him? What then?"
She seemed not to hear the question. "If he isn't lying, then he's got some sort of fix on some contract. Like he had on Indess."
"Almost certainly," Levine agreed. "If he isn't lying."
"Why?" Alon asked. "How can you be so sure? Couldn't he just be angling for another try at a command?"
Zev snorted. My partner never had a high opinion of generals. "You really eager to give him a command? Particularly after he outsmarted Rivka's favorite killer last time?" he went on, indicating me with a jerk of his thumb.
"No, but—"
"Of course not. And he knows it. And he also knows that it's going to be one of us headhunters coming out for him. Section isn't trained in complicated military planning. So it's going to be something simple, elegant."
I picked up the train of thought. "It's going to take more than twenty words to describe, but it's going to be something that he knows he can convince a Section killer is a good plan, even with some lesser mortal leading it. But he's not going to tell us until we've got him out of his predicament, if then. He might hold out until we're on the scene, wherever the scene is."
Zev nodded. "We find him; he tells us—assuming that he will tell us. We either refer it to you, or go ahead and implement it. What then?"
"I have had about enough of this Shimon Bar-El," Rivka said. "Find out what he knows, then fix it so that he isn't a problem for us anymore."
Alon nodded. "It's clearly necessary. He's a loose cannon."
"Pinhas?" I turned to Levine.
He sat silent for a long moment.
"There has long been," Pinhas Levine said, with a deep sigh, "a lot more knowledge locked up in his head than I like to think about. He's always known too much. He's managed to keep himself out of the wrong hands, so far, but . . ."
He shook his head. "Make it look like an accident."
CHAPTER FOUR
Salutes
Metzada, Central Warrens
Military Educational Wing, Indoor Combat Section
12/20/43, 1613 local time
The one-way glass at the front of the classroom looked out on both rooms: the smaller one that was labeled hallway, with the directions of the entirely theoretical continuation of the hall chalked in on the far wall; and the larger one that contained a table, around which sat ten men. This one was labeled general staff room.
Men, not boys: while they were all wearing the elegant black and silver uniforms that Freiheimer field-grade general staff officers used a war and a
"Can you?" Rivka Effron raised an eyebrow. "I don't trust this uncle of yours, and I'm not about to risk a team of expensively trained and highly valuable young soldiers on getting him out of whatever mess he's in. You can have a half dozen semi-retired veterans. Or retired ones, if you want They'll be going in as career noncoms accompanying a negotiating team. I don't want a bunch of eighteen-year-old elite strikers trying to play clerk. Nobody's going to believe that."
It made sense. Most of what the old woman decides makes sense. "As long as I get my pick—"
"Volunteers, only."
I repressed a smile. The old woman is devious, wise, and subtle, but she doesn't understand quite everything. "And when I get him out?"
" If you get him out." Rivka Effron looked me in the eye. "How can you be sure you'll even find him?"
"Not a problem," Zev put in. "Assuming he wants to be found." He looked over at me. "What say we just make our presence known to every criminal type we can, and see what happens?"
I nodded. "Trick is to make sure we stay alive while we're bumping around, but it should work. He'll be findable." She was underestimating my uncle. As long as we kept it straightforward, we'd find him. "But when we do find him? What then?"
She seemed not to hear the question. "If he isn't lying, then he's got some sort of fix on some contract. Like he had on Indess."
"Almost certainly," Levine agreed. "If he isn't lying."
"Why?" Alon asked. "How can you be so sure? Couldn't he just be angling for another try at a command?"
Zev snorted. My partner never had a high opinion of generals. "You really eager to give him a command? Particularly after he outsmarted Rivka's favorite killer last time?" he went on, indicating me with a jerk of his thumb.
"No, but—"
"Of course not. And he knows it. And he also knows that it's going to be one of us headhunters coming out for him. Section isn't trained in complicated military planning. So it's going to be something simple, elegant."
I picked up the train of thought. "It's going to take more than twenty words to describe, but it's going to be something that he knows he can convince a Section killer is a good plan, even with some lesser mortal leading it. But he's not going to tell us until we've got him out of his predicament, if then. He might hold out until we're on the scene, wherever the scene is."
Zev nodded. "We find him; he tells us—assuming that he will tell us. We either refer it to you, or go ahead and implement it. What then?"
"I have had about enough of this Shimon Bar-El," Rivka said. "Find out what he knows, then fix it so that he isn't a problem for us anymore."
Alon nodded. "It's clearly necessary. He's a loose cannon."
"Pinhas?" I turned to Levine.
He sat silent for a long moment.
"There has long been," Pinhas Levine said, with a deep sigh, "a lot more knowledge locked up in his head than I like to think about. He's always known too much. He's managed to keep himself out of the wrong hands, so far, but . . ."
He shook his head. "Make it look like an accident."
CHAPTER FOUR
Salutes
Metzada, Central Warrens
Military Educational Wing, Indoor Combat Section
12/20/43, 1613 local time
The one-way glass at the front of the classroom looked out on both rooms: the smaller one that was labeled hallway, with the directions of the entirely theoretical continuation of the hall chalked in on the far wall; and the larger one that contained a table, around which sat ten men. This one was labeled general staff room.
Men, not boys: while they were all wearing the elegant black and silver uniforms that Freiheimer field-grade general staff officers used a war and a
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